


ardiente

by IndieBughead



Series: The Bughead Collection of Drabbles [4]
Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, bughead - Freeform, in which betty and jughead do the salsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 09:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndieBughead/pseuds/IndieBughead
Summary: Thank you to the lovely @bugggghead for the prompt.#84. "I can’t believe you talked me into this."





	ardiente

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bugggghead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugggghead/gifts).



“Juggie, _come on_ ,” she pleads breathlessly, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “You could at least pretend to try!”

 

“I – I don’t _salsa_ , okay?”  He fires back, ears tinged red in shame and frustration as he once again misses a step and collides with her right leg. “My hips were not meant to move – like that.”

 

He gestures with his head to the front of the room where Marta, their instructor, sways her hips sensually to the rhythm of the song that has been plaguing Jughead’s mind for over a week. He knows enough Spanish to recognize that the singer is describing a very sexually explicit act, over and over again. It’s been haunting him for days, and he’s had to catch himself in the middle of whistling it as he types away on his laptop.

 

“Come on,” she repeats, her eyes intent on following every twist and turn of the Colombian woman’s body. “I want to be able to dance at least somewhat decently at their wedding.”

 

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” he mutters, probably for the umpteenth time since they started taking this class over a week ago.

 

 

In true Betty Cooper fashion, she had signed them up for salsa classes without even telling him about it -- she’d simply gotten home one night, kissed him hello and told him to get into athletic clothes. Eventually, she revealed her motive: as best man and maid of honor to their best friends’ they had an obligation to start the dancing and get everyone on the dancefloor. How would they do that, she had asked him, all big doe eyes and pouty lips, if they didn’t know how to dance to Veronica’s (and her entire repertoire of aunts, uncles and cousins) favorite genre of music?

 

 

 She rolls her eyes and guides his hips down to hers again, wincing when Jughead bends his knee at an awkward angle in an attempt to sway his body and ends up poking her thigh harshly with the pointy bone.

 

She looks like she’s about to scold him but instead she takes a deep breath and fixes him with a passive-aggressive smile. “In sickness and in health, Jughead, remember?”

 

He snorts, not caring that it’ll probably only fuel her more. “You’re damn right this is a sickness, I’ve never felt this bad in my life.”

 

“Oh excuse me, are you the one with bruises all over your body because your husband keeps bumping into you?”

 

“Uh –“he starts to fire back, intent on letting it be known that his body simply doesn’t bend like she wants him to. But Marta is suddenly in front of them, all dark lips and wide hips, cocking her head to the side as she gives them a once over.

 

“What’s going on here? I could hear your two fighting all the way from the front,” she says, not meeting their eyes as she moves between them, arranging their hands around each other to her pleasure and effectively bumping them closer together.

 

“It’s just – it seems we’re not meant to salsa,” Betty says, her eyes darting to the floor quickly before giving Marta a sad smile.

 

Jughead instantly feels like an asshole. He knows how much this means to her, has seen it in the way her eyes light up whenever she gets a move right and Marta compliments her, or in the way she hums and sways while she’s cooking and she thinks he’s not looking.

 

 Admittedly, part of the reason why this is proving to be such a challenge for him only partially has to do with his body and its lack of coordination. The other part, the part that lies deeper down somewhere in his mind, is concerned that he’ll make an absolute ass of himself in the dancefloor, pretending to dance to a rhythm he doesn’t understand. What will people think if they see Jughead Jones, self-proclaimed King of Sarcasm and all things Dark, attempting to shake his hips in a way that would make FPI shudder in his grave?

 

“What do you mean? _Anyone_ can salsa,” Marta responds, her incredulity reflected in the way her eyebrows fly up to meet her hairline. Betty opens her mouth, most likely to give an excuse that involves her, but Jughead knows that’s unfair.

 

 “She can do it fine, it’s me,” he explains through a sigh, admitting defeat.

 

Marta turns her eyes to him, once again letting her eyes slowly roam up and down his body in appraisal. He shifts uncomfortably and is about to make a snarky comment about objectification when she snaps her dark brown eyes to his face again.

 

 “Jug-head, _si_?” she asks him, reaching into the pocket of her skin tight leggings and producing a controller. She clicks on it, effectively silencing the room and making every other couple stop in their tracks.

 

“Yes,” he responds uneasily, dreading the attention of their fellow classmates. He sneaks a quick glance to Betty, who’s still pressed against him lightly, and is surprised to find her looking terribly at ease as she waits for Marta to continue speaking.

 

“Alright, Jug-head. Do you think your wife is sexy?”

 

It takes him some time to realize he actually has to give her a verbal response, prompted by Betty’s slightly offended scoff when he stands with his mouth open for more than a few seconds.

 

“Uh, yeah,” he sputters out, sure his entire face resembles a tomato. His voice comes out almost like a question, and this time Betty’s scoff is louder. He clears his throat. “I mean, yes. Of course I do.”

 

 

Marta smiles at him, mirth all over her features. “Okay and do you often think of having sex with her?”

 

By now, the entire class is staring straight at him, eyes unwavering as his mind tries to come up with an appropriate response that doesn’t make him sound like a caveman. His eyes fly to Betty only to find her biting her bottom lip in the way she does when she knows it’s not appropriate to laugh. He rolls his eyes at her, deciding that at least he’ll go home with a flattered wife.

 

“Yes, all the time.”

 

“ _Excelente_ , so I need you to feel that when the music starts to play, got it?” He nods at her, his grip on Betty’s waist tightening as he prepares for her next instruction. “You need to make love to her on the dancefloor.”

 

“ _What_?” he is not, however, prepared for _that_. He stares at her with wide blue eyes, mouth agape. He barely registers Betty’s laughter shaking her body and therefore shaking the parts he’s touching, too. 

 

“Not literally,” Marta drawls out, massaging the wrinkles that appear on her forehead. She proceeds to mutter a string of words in Spanish, of which Jughead only catches two. He’s pretty sure it’s not the kind of words Marta would use to talk to her mother _._ “Step away, _por favor.”_

 

She ushers him to the side, untangling his arms from around Betty in one quick movement and assuming his previous position easily, pressing herself close to his wife’s body.

 

Marta clicks on the controller again and counts to 3 to give Betty a warning of when she’ll start to move. Their first step falls perfectly in sync to the beat of the song and Jughead watches in complete fascination as his wife gets twirled and tipped back by Marta, who never takes her eyes away from Betty’s. He can only describe the look on her face as lustful, and he’s not ashamed to admit he would probably feel incredibly turned on if it wasn’t for the fact that the rest of the class is staring at exactly the same show.

 

Clearing his throat, he waits patiently until the song ends and Betty walks back to his side, all wide smile and flushed cheeks and neck and chest and – well, if he can get her to look like _that_ , maybe, _maybe_ he can try a little harder for her, FPI be damned.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just another short drabble, this time with a hint of my own culture.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, as always find me over at indiebughead on Tumblr :)


End file.
